


More Feeling Than Thought

by BlunderGod (PompousPickle)



Series: The Fire Does Not Rule You [3]
Category: Mortal Kombat (Video Games), Mortal Kombat - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Sento is an asshole
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-20
Updated: 2015-07-20
Packaged: 2018-04-10 09:05:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4385939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PompousPickle/pseuds/BlunderGod
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sento does not approve of the Shirai-Ryu Grandmaster. Kenshi doesn't care.</p>
            </blockquote>





	More Feeling Than Thought

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: "Sento judging Hanzo"

Sento couldn’t fully speak to Kenshi. There were hundreds of voices inside; for one to speak louder than the others would be impossible. For all them to agree on one thing, even more so. However, the sword still communicated to Kenshi clearly. It was less of a direct thought and more a feeling. The pulse effortlessly flowed into Kenshi’s mind. From there, the swordsman translated the feeling into words.

_He’s wrong for you._

“Sento disapproves of your presence, Master Hasashi,” Kenshi said as he performed his katas.

“It is afraid I will defeat you.” Hanzo’s voice was sure and assertive. Kenshi could feel Hanzo’s focus and determination, burning with the heat of a coming battle. In any other situation, it would feel dangerous. But after sparring with him so many times, the warmth almost felt comforting.

_The Netherrealm burns inside him. There is no comfort there._

“Merely foreseeing your loss.” Kenshi ignored his ancestors and put the sword away, returning his attention to the battle.

They met each other in the middle effortlessly, Kenshi matching every move Hanzo made. They traded blows over and over, testing each other’s resolve and martial arts style.

_He’s unrefined. A brutish style for a brutish man._

Kenshi let out a small breath of air, nearly a laugh. Sento wasn’t wrong. But Hanzo’s strength worked for him. It was rare the two resorted to hand-to-hand combat when sparring. Kenshi enjoyed the swell of his muscles under his hand. It was a rare moment when he could slip in a small touch, just to feel the ninja’s skin.

_You lust for him._

Embarrassed at being caught by his own sword, Kenshi jumped backwards. With little warning, he threw Hanzo back with a blast of telekinetic energy. This is where the spar always switched gears, where things started to get more serious than just a few blows between friends.

In an instant, Kenshi rolled to dodge a chained kunai, warned only by the rattling of chains. He slid to his feet and projected himself forward, using his telekinetic image to toss Hanzo upwards, letting him fall to the ground.

_Pathetic recovery._

Kenshi wanted to make a snide remark, but barely had time before he was skidding backwards to avoid Hanzo rushing forward, landing two blows square in Kenshi’s chest, sending him backwards. Kenshi could feel the heat building around Hanzo, but didn’t have time to react before he felt the blaze of hellfire meet him in a kick.

_He can’t ever escape that hellfire. You tried so hard._

Kenshi grimaced before pulling out Sento to attack. He beat Hanzo backwards, managing to put a good amount of distance between the two men. He never wanted to “cure” Hanzo of his fire. Sento knew that. There was nothing wrong with him. He just knew the hellfire could be channeled more easily. Kenshi knew that Hanzo was in full control.

Sento was never as sure.

Kenshi continued keeping the distance, using his telekinesis to keep Hanzo at bay. He knew that meant he was in danger of being pulled in by the chains, but the rattling was enough of a warning to help him get away.

He had forgotten about the teleporting though.

Suddenly, Hanzo completely disappeared from his senses. It had only lasted a second, but in that moment, Kenshi felt more sightless than ever. Hanzo came from behind, in a pulse of heat that made Kenshi spin around. Not soon enough, however, as Hanzo elbowed him in the chin and then threw him to the ground.

_He is monster._

_A killer._

_A murderer._

Kenshi ignored it. Kenshi always ignored it. His ancestors guided him in many ways. But when it came to battle, Sento was single-minded on victory, and blind to anything except the opponent’s flaws. Kenshi’s only choice was to keep fighting.

When he got to his feet, he managed to work himself into a good rhythm, dragging Hanzo forward and knocking him back again and again, using Sento to juggle him. Hanzo broke the telekinetic hold on occasion to slide in blows, but never long enough to string many hits together.

_You left your son with a killer._

_You want our descendant to be a killing machine._

_Just like him._

_Just like you._

Kenshi stopped for a moment, everything faltering around him. The rhythm that he had worked up, that steady beat of the battle, stuttered to a stop. Not every ancestor agreed, of course, but the overall feeling was clear, making him stop in his tracks.

Hanzo took the moment of opportunity without thinking. He threw out his kunai and sent it immediately into Kenshi’s side, pulling him forward. He landed three blows to Kenshi’s face, knocking him to the ground.

Everything was burning. His skin wasn’t peeling or boiling, but Kenshi felt the fire under Hanzo’s fist. As he fell, he could feel Sento slipping from his hands, sliding away from him. He had lost, he dimly realized, underneath all of the pain radiating from his side and from his face.

“I yield,” Kenshi mumbled.

_A murderer._

Kenshi stayed on the ground longer than strictly necessary, catching his breath and letting his thoughts stop racing. He brought Sento back into his hold, ignoring the pulsation of fear and contempt for the man before him.

_No matter how hard you try, he’ll never be fully human. He’ll always be Scorpion._

The telepath put the sword away and felt for his side. The gash cut deep, going far beyond his body armor. He heard hurried footsteps run towards him, and soon felt two hands at his shoulders. He could feel Hanzo kneeling before him.

“I cut you deeper than intended,” Hanzo said, a little obviously. He traced his hand down Kenshi’s side and stopped when he reached the wound, pressing down a little to get the feel for the cut. Kenshi could feel the tension in his hands, shaking with not worry, but _anger._ Anger at himself for getting carried away. “I shouldn’t have-”

“Stop.” Kenshi removed the other man’s hand and stood up, finding his legs shaking and his breath still shallow. He wasn’t badly hurt, he decided. Just shaken from the battle and from Hanzo’s ferocity. And from Sento’s violent reaction to it. “You did nothing wrong. You fought valiantly.”

“I fought carelessly,” Hanzo corrected, heat filling every word. He slid his arm around Kenshi’s waist, hoisting him up and forcing Kenshi to lean into Hanzo’s shoulders.

_He’s warm._

Kenshi smiled. Not hot. Not heated. Not filled with flames. Just warm. “It seems I just got you too worked up.” His voice was teasing, but the ninja only snorted as they walked back to Hanzo’s quarters to patch each other up.

_He fights passionately. Brutishly._

_Cares deeply. Thoroughly._

Kenshi hummed in agreement, feeling Sento pulse thoughts and emotions at him. He ran his fingers across Hanzo’s shoulders as the ninja supported him back to the room. When they reached the quarters, Hanzo carefully lowered Kenshi onto the futon. “Don’t even think about moving, Swordsman.”

“You really aren’t as powerful as you think. You didn’t hurt me as badly as you imply.” Still, Kenshi had no intentions of moving. He found himself on the futon in the middle of Hanzo’s quarters often, despite never having physically kissed the other man, let alone slept with him. 

Hanzo merely grimaced and went to grab the first aid supplies. Kenshi laid back, grabbing onto Sento and feeling the hum of his ancestors. Despite all the trepidation, the sword felt comfortable here, in this room.

_He’s bad for you._

Kenshi agreed, on some level. He was a dangerous man. But that didn’t deter him from trying to win Hanzo over. And his ancestors most certainly knew that. He let out one more breath, coming back to himself after the spar, letting the pain of the wound slowly die down. He knew the sword would never truly approve. But he couldn’t bring himself to care. After all, there was another feeling, pulsing ever so dimly underneath all the wariness that Sento radiated. A feeling that longed for Hanzo, and yearned for the safety he provided, and the consistency he represented.

_He is a dangerous man._

_But he is home._


End file.
